


Kiss me, my quicksilver

by sapphi



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Affairs, Breaking marriage, Drabble, Elizabeta Héderváry - Freeform, F/M, Human AU, PruHun, affair, gilbert beilschmidt - Freeform, hunpru - Freeform, it’s going to be Wild
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 16:45:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17984882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphi/pseuds/sapphi
Summary: She’s a whirlwind of a woman, a graceful hurricane made of decayed normalacy. Gilbert never once thinks for mercy.





	Kiss me, my quicksilver

Venetian bridges had the sort of ambiguity you couldn't ignore. A few meters of that in-between world stretched upon a gentle, almost tranquil river.   
  
The fumes of Gilbert's cigarette seemed out of place in the picturesque scene, with its soft lights and distant music. A violin. God, he couldn't have one moment of peace without being reminded of her, could he? And usually he wouldn't mind; her warm laugh and yet icy voice were worth being a vibrant memory, same with the hands that were surprisingly strong, styling her pale hair into a neat french braid in the morning.   
  
It almost made Gilbert want to rush back and apologize as soon as he was at the doorway.   
  
Almost.  
  
The ''it's better to be happy than to be right" advice only worked so many times before being happy meant carrying the bodies of your morals out of the house.   
  
He heard footsteps - male, judging by the shoes they must've worn - and was about to leave this little bridge-world but heard a voice. Female, to his surprise. Clear. It caught him so off guard that he didn't catch what she was saying. "Uh, what?" Gilbert turned around and felt like chained by the green eyes. Red lips. Slightly disheveled hair.  
  
"May I?" She pointed at the cigarette. Gil was too hypnotized to do anything but hand it to her. Her smile sent a comforting warmth through his chest. She took a drag, exhaled, a cloud of carbon dioxide and nicotine and a whole lot of other substances that probably should've sounded alarming enough to throw the little thing away in an instant.  
  
They stood there in silence for a minute, elbows on the railing. She didn't have a jacket, Gilbert noticed. The dress by no means looked warm. "Aren't you cold?"  
  
"Running warms you up."  
  
"You ran...?"  
  
"My date was boring," she looked down at her shoes. "Got a nice souvenir though."  
  
"I think that's considered theft."  
  
"Why? I traded them for mine. They'll give him some extra height. And they're, like, new. I only bought them for this evening."  
  
"Why buy new shoes for that."  
  
"I don't own fancy clothes, mysterious know-it-all."  
  
He could tell that she was starting to get cold, so he took off his jacket and put it on her shoulders. "I'm Gilbert." She snorted, to which he simply responded by rolling his eyes. "You own a pair of fancy shoes now. Get a tux and it's a look."  
  
She seemed to like that thought, a smile forming now. "I'm Erzsebeth."  
  
"... Uh, could you repeat that?"  
  
"Eliza. Eliza is fine." A raindrop fell on her cheek. She sighed. "Do you have an umbrella, Gil?"  
  
He shook his head and took her hand, the rain becoming heavier. Let's run, the look on Gilbert's face and the way he held her hand said.   
  
And so they did, giggling the whole time, Eliza pulling him along, through the door and up the stairs to her apartment. She took the jacket off, then shoes, laughing as she looked at Gilbert's wet clothes. He had a mischievous smile before wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tightly, causing her to shriek and laugh more. Despite his insisting ("I can't stay, I've got work at home, it's not raining that much"), Eliza refused to send him home before the rain stopped.  
  
Resulting in Gilbert staying for the rest of the night. The clothes in her apartment were, oh surprise, too small for him; except for one oversized pajama.  
  
"Why'd you keep that?"   
  
"It looks cute."  
  
"Yes. I can see the appeal in feral looking raccoons."  
  
It  _was_  pretty comfortable though. Spending a night in a small apartment watching film noir movies and eating take-out food suddenly seemed like a great idea, and this wasn't quite attraction. The way her eyes looked like they were shining when she was deep into an enthusiastic rant about the pets at her job wasn't quite mesmerising. The lilt in her voice didn't quite steal his breath. She didn't make him want to be happy rather than right.  
  
By the time the rain stopped, she was asleep and his clothes were dry enough to head home.   
  
It was halfway to his own apartment that he noticed something in his jacket's pocket; a piece of paper. He got it out. A phone number was written on it, the numbers neat and rounded. Next to them, a sentence: "thanks for the date, call me soon."


End file.
